See You in Another Life
by pacejunkie
Summary: Season Two. Charlie meets Desmond in the hatch and the two learn something about courage.


**Title:** See You in Another Life

**Rated:** PG/K 

**Summary:** Season Two. Charlie meets Desmond in the hatch and the two learn something about courage.

**Characters:** Charlie, Desmond and assorted regulars

**Word Count: **6,017

**A/N:** These scenes are based on bunnies suggested by falafelfiction. The opening scene incorporates an actual deleted scene from 2x01 _Man of Science, Man of Faith_ that was one of our favourites and should never have been cut. They really should learn to ask our opinion before making these decisions.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own so I can't sell.

They were not in fact escaping to the hatch and Dr. Arzt had somehow been killed. Those were the two main bits of information Charlie had managed to glean from Jack's speech in the caves. He would have paid closer attention if his head hadn't been hurting so badly. That last one was a shocker though – Charlie had quite liked Arzt, both of them having shared a fondness for spiders. He would have to ask Hurley later what had happened to him, but it didn't take a genius to assume it had something to do with the dynamite they had gone out to collect.

Charlie had himself returned with Sayid not long before with Aaron in his arms, already confident in the knowledge that the Others weren't coming for them. The black smoke had all been a ruse by Rousseau to get her hands on Claire's baby as potential barter for the return of her own. He had tried to explain that to the anxious camp but most of them, and particularly Shannon, were still insisting on freaking out. Charlie tried not to feel insulted but he had to concede that they wouldn't really accept it until they heard it from Jack.

Now that the unpleasant matter of the baby stealing was behind him Charlie should have been able to get some sleep, apart from the fact that he still had two problems. The first was the cauterized gash on his head that burned as though it were still on fire. The second was the statue filled with Charlie's favourite pain reliever he had stashed in his bag that despite its alluring proximity, may as well have been impossibly out of reach. Having snatched the Virgin Mary from the jaws of the plane wreckage on impulse as though it were an accident victim needing his aid, Charlie had not the slightest idea what he was going to do with it now.

He was standing right down front during Jack's announcements. The doctor was promising them all that they would stay together in the caves, wait out the night and watch the sunrise, which was all well and good. But when Jack was done he stepped down from his rock and made a beeline for Charlie.

"Charlie, what happened to your head?" he asked, staring hard at the area just above Charlie's left eye.

Charlie told him about Aaron's kidnapping, the rock trap he stupidly triggered despite Sayid's warning and Sayid's particularly sadistic brand of field medicine -- quite possibly intended as a punishment for said stupidity and because Charlie had punched Sayid earlier for trusting the French loony. Jack looked like he was concentrating hard to keep up with the details. When Charlie got to the part about the gunpowder Jack looked like his eyes were going to bungee jump from their sockets.

"Sayid did what?" Jack said.

"That was my reaction too when he opened up the bullet," said Charlie, "but I didn't have a choice. It was bleeding too badly and I wasn't going back without Aaron."

"Does it still hurt?" he asked.

"Only like sticking your head in a campfire," said Charlie. "I feel like a toasted marshmallow to be honest."

Jack shook his head, suppressed a smile at Charlie's joke and then leaned in and tried to get a closer look, "I can't see anything in this light, but that has to be cleaned. Come over here and I'll check it out."

Charlie followed his friend to the area where he kept his medical supplies. As he passed through the huddled camp he looked around at the familiar faces.

"What happened to Locke and Kate?" Charlie asked.

"Locke's still at the hatch and Kate went to lend him a hand," Jack muttered.

By his tone Charlie sensed that he didn't seem too happy with Kate's decision. Charlie knew the two had been talking earlier, and he was certain Jack wouldn't have wanted her to go out there alone. He wondered if they had an argument about it.

"She went back out there? With Locke?" he asked.

"Yeah, Charlie, she went out there with him," said Jack with a sigh.

"Well, why'd you let her go?" asked Charlie.

"I didn't _let_ her do anything," he replied.

"Well, she kind of asked for your permission," Charlie said, pointing out what to him appeared obvious.

Naturally if Jack knew Kate had gone it was because Kate herself had told him, Charlie reasoned. She wouldn't have bothered to do that for nothing. Kate's intentions clearly weren't obvious to Jack, however.

"She doesn't ask for anyone's permission," Jack said, taking a second look at Charlie's wound in the firelight, "she does whatever she wants."

"Yeah, right," said Charlie, sitting down as Jack opened up a packet of gauze. "You know, if she wanted to go, she would've just gone. Now let's not forget, she is a girl Jack."

Jack looked at Charlie, still not comprehending. Charlie felt as though he were explaining something to a four year old. Could he really be this clueless when it came to women?

"_Maybe_ she wanted _you_ to tell her _not_ to go," said Charlie, as plainly as he could.

Jack didn't respond to this, but seemed to be deep in thought for the remainder of the time he spent cleaning the scorched wound with a harsh antiseptic. Charlie gritted his teeth. The pain was making conversation difficult anyway, but he kept his best to hold still.

"That's probably going to leave a scar," Jack said when he was done. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you out."

"You can't be everywhere Jack," said Charlie.

"I know, but…" Jack paused, thinking for a moment, then threw down the used gauze. "I'm going back out to the hatch."

Charlie wasn't surprised. He was probably imagining Kate lying somewhere with her head split open or worse. Jack would never forgive himself if something happened and he wasn't there to fix it.

Charlie wondered if he should tag along. Maybe Jack needed more help reading Kate's cues. Seriously though, Claire and Aaron were safely reunited and Charlie had little to do here besides think about the heroin that had taken refuge in his bag. He needed to get his mind off it, so he told Claire he was going to check out the hatch to see if it would provide a better shelter for them than the caves.

When he rejoined Jack he saw Hurley there, talking to the doctor as he finished packing his bag.

"You're kidding, right? You're going back?" asked Hurley.

Jack loaded his gun as he answered, "Yeah."

"What about all that stuff you said about waiting 'til morning and watching the sun rise?" Hurley asked.

"I changed my mind," said Jack.

Hurley looked to Charlie for some explanation for the turnaround, but Charlie just shrugged, smiled and followed Jack into the heart of darkness.

* * *

When Charlie saw the blown hatch door and the broken ladder he wished he'd stayed behind, but there was no going back now without looking like a coward. If Kate and Locke were really down there, Jack might need his help getting them out. Charlie stared down the dark opening as Jack inspected the rope that had been left there, tied to a nearby tree trunk. When he was certain it felt secure he turned to Charlie.

"You want to go first?" Jack asked.

Charlie looked down the shaft again. It was so dark that even with a torch he had no idea how far down it was, or whether the rope reached all the way to the bottom. He had been useless at the rope climb in school. Fortunately, Jack sensed his hesitation.

"I'll check it out," Jack decided, "if it's clear I'll call up and you follow me. Okay?"

Charlie nodded and kept a watch on the rope as Jack swung his legs over and descended, first by use of the ladder and then, when the ladder quickly ended after only a half dozen rungs, by the rope. He listened to the sounds of Jack's exertion and waited. After about a minute he heard a small slap of a landing and then Jack's voice, amplifying itself loud and clear up the shaft.

"It's not bad Charlie, you can do this," he said.

With that single reassurance Charlie stepped onto the ladder, crossed himself quickly and started his descent. Remembering his school days he wrapped his legs around the rope and used them to control his speed, lowering himself hand over hand until he felt the rope run out between his feet. Then he stopped and would have stayed there indefinitely had he not heard Jack's voice and felt his presence nearby in the darkness.

"It's only about five more feet, just jump," Jack instructed.

Charlie used up as much of the rope as he could and then let go, bending his knees. It was odd jumping in the dark when he didn't know where the ground was. As soon as he hit it, he felt himself tilt backwards but he threw his hands out and Jack was there to keep him from falling over.

"Thanks," said Charlie.

"Let's go," said Jack.

Charlie followed him down a long concrete corridor, complete with rusty leaking pipes, puddles on the floor and a strange humming sound from behind the wall on their right. Jack stopped for a moment to inspect an opening in the wall that appeared to have been sealed with concrete. As he leaned in, the key around his neck moved, as if drawn by an invisible force.

Directly across from the magnetic wall, Charlie stopped again at an enormous mural that had been painted there. He couldn't make out the abstract design but it was so chaotic and confused that Charlie concluded that the artist must have been stark raving mad when he'd done it. _Had someone actually lived down here,_ he wondered.

They reached the end of the corridor and came to the entrance of a room with a large dome in place of the ceiling. There was a wall of computers and a monitor on a desk. Jack pulled his gun out and held it as they entered with slow quiet steps.

Charlie stopped at the desk and looked at the computer. The screen was blank apart from a flashing prompt symbol. Curious, he reached out to type on the keyboard but drew back when he heard a voice.

"I wouldn't do that," said Locke.

He had appeared at the threshold of the opposite side of the room with his hands up and a gun to his head. Jack raised his weapon and pointed it at the man who was holding him. Charlie stepped away from the computer and watched the standoff.

"Move and I kill him," the man said in a voice that to Charlie was unmistakably Scottish. It was a small but crazy world. "Put the gun down."

"Where's Kate?" asked Jack.

"Jack, it's okay. His name is Desmond," said Locke.

The crazy hunter didn't appear even slightly rattled by his predicament. He was even going so far as to make introductions.

"I said drop it!" said the man.

"Where's Kate?" Jack asked again.

"She's fine, just put down the..." Locke began.

Jack on the other hand was becoming unhinged. "I'm not putting anything..."

"Jack, maybe you should listen," said Charlie.

Suddenly Desmond raised his pistol and fired overhead. Charlie jumped and backed up into the desk, causing the monitor to shake. He was afraid he'd caught the gunman's attention because he glanced in Charlie's direction for an instant, but then returned to the situation at hand. The Scotsman took a step into the room using Locke as a shield and returned his gun to the back of Locke's head.

"Lower your gun or I'll blow his damned head off, brother," he demanded.

Charlie was just waiting for someone to make a move when several things happened at once. From behind Desmond, Kate appeared. She had a rifle and slammed it into the gunman's back, knocking him to the ground. As they fell, Desmond's gun discharged, which unfortunately due to the trajectory of its descent was now pointed directly at Charlie.

Charlie barely had the time to shout "Bloody hell!" before he ducked and dove for the ground. Halfway down he felt a sharp sting in his shoulder and knew he'd been hit. From the floor he turned to look, relieved to see that the bullet had just grazed him.

But it had hit the computer dead on.

Jack ran forward to a now prone Desmond and held him down.

"Do not move," Jack ordered.

"He's unarmed," argued Locke.

Still sitting on the floor, Charlie touched his shoulder and brought his fingers up to reveal a small stain of blood. "Does this look like he's unarmed? He just had a sodding gun pointed at your head!"

"Are you okay Charlie?" asked Jack.

"Yeah," Charlie said, getting up to stand, "better than his computer anyway."

At Charlie's words Desmond lifted his head and noticed the computer for the first time. The hard drive had taken a fatal blow and was smoking.

To everyone's surprise the Scotsman began to panic, "What did you do? What did you do? We're all going to die. I have to fix it."

Charlie kept looking from the man to the computer but failed to see why the equipment's destruction should equal their deaths. Desmond was still struggling to get up but Jack was still holding him down.

"What the hell is he talking about?" asked Charlie.

"Look at the wall," Desmond cried, pointing to a box that hung there with numbers that flipped. "You see that? That's a timer. It's counting down. I've got to enter the code. I've got to push the button."

"Or what?" asked Charlie, but even without the man's reply, he suddenly had a bad feeling about the whole thing. The timer was clearly counting down to something. Moreover, they were the intruders here. If this crazy Scotsman had been living in this hatch then he had to know more about the situation than they did. "Jack, maybe you should let him up."

Jack turned to Kate who was still holding the shotgun and made sure she kept it trained on him, and then Jack let Desmond up. The man sprinted to the computer and began taking it apart. Charlie watched on, suddenly curious about the whole thing. He wasn't ready to believe the man yet but he wanted to know what the computer was for. When Desmond got up and ran to the bookshelf Charlie followed him. He was digging through shelves, searching frantically for something.

"Whatever you're looking for, maybe I can help," offered Charlie.

"Can you fix a computer?" Desmond asked.

"Well, no," Charlie replied.

"Then you can't help me, can you?"

"But Sayid can," Charlie said.

"I'll go and get Sayid," said Locke and he left the room.

Desmond was too preoccupied to notice or care that the man he had been holding hostage had just walked out. Finally, he pulled out a jar full of screws and parts.

"Gotcha," he said, kissing the glass and unscrewing the lid on the way back to the computer with Charlie still on his heels.

"What are you doing?" Charlie asks him.

"What does it look like?" said Desmond as he worked.

"But why?" Charlie asked, "What's the computer for?"

"Not now," Desmond muttered, "just let me..."

Charlie persisted. "Who the bloody hell are you? How did you get here?"

Desmond lost his patience and leapt up, grabbing Charlie by the shirt with both hands.

"Hey!" said Jack and he took a step forward to stop him but instead of belting Charlie, Desmond began to speak. Everyone froze, wanting to hear what he had to say even though the man was still agitated, shaking Charlie with every other word for emphasis. Charlie just held his breath and listened.

"It was 3 years ago," he began, "I was on a solo race around the world, and my boat crashed into the reef, and then Kelvin came."

"Kelvin?" said Charlie.

"Kelvin -- he comes running out of the jungle -- hurry, hurry, come with me. He brings me down here. The first thing he does -- because it's beeping already -- he types in the code, he pushes the button, and it stops. What was all that about, I say. Just saving the world, he says."

"Saving the world?" Charlie repeats.

"His words, not mine. So I started pushing the button, too. And we saved the world together for awhile, and that was lovely. Then Kelvin died, and now here I am all alone. _The end_."

With his final words he shoved Charlie away and returned to the computer. Charlie stumbled back a few steps and then looked over at the others to judge their reactions. Jack, as usual was the biggest skeptic, throwing more questions out as Desmond worked. He even went so far as to suggest that this was all a mind game, some kind of experiment being played on Desmond as though he were a lab rat in a giant maze.

Charlie was comforted by Jack's theory, until Desmond responded, "Every single day? And for all our sakes, I hope it's not real."

Desmond replaced the lid on the hard drive. Charlie noticed next that he quickly crossed himself just as Charlie had done before scaling down the hatch. Charlie crossed his own fingers for good measure. Then Desmond flipped the switch on the computer…

… and they were plunged into darkness.

The blackout was quickly remedied by yellow emergency lights but the crisis was clear.

"What happened?" asked Charlie.

"It's over," Desmond said.

"What do you mean, it's over?" Charlie asked.

Desmond jumped up and ran to the next room. He grabbed a pack and started filling it with whatever he could grab, including books, food and oddly, vials of some medicine and an injector.

"What are you doing?" Charlie asked him, "Are you leaving? Desmond? Wait. We can fix the computer. Sayid is coming. He knows..."

"Give him my best," he said, heading to what Charlie now saw was an actual exit door.

"Wait, wait, wait -- where are you -- you can't leave," Charlie shouted after him. "Where are you going?"

"As far as I can run, brother," he said and he was gone.

Charlie took one look over his shoulder at his companions and then he went after him. The door led him back out into the jungle and he could just spot Desmond's shrinking form in the far distance. He chased him over rough terrain, vaulting logs and sliding down slopes. Desmond was fast but as he closed in on him Charlie got the sense from the way he stared at his feet and stumbled that he wasn't as comfortable with the outdoors. Charlie knew this jungle a lot better, anticipating each rise and fall. As soon as he was within earshot Charlie called after him.

"Stop!"

Desmond skidded to a stop and turned to face Charlie. "Oh, right. The code, yeah?"

"What?" Charlie asked.

"Listen carefully. If by some miracle you manage to get the computer working again you've got to enter the code: 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42, hit execute. Again: 4, 8, 15..."

But as Desmond spoke he was also walking backwards, taking slow measured steps without seeing where he was going. Charlie on the other hand saw exactly where he was going when he noticed an almost imperceptible trip wire that crossed his path. It was entirely due to his experience of the previous day that Charlie looked straight up into the sky above Desmond's head and spotted the net full of black volcanic rocks.

"Wait, Desmond," he warned, holding up his hands. "Stop…"

But Desmond was still counting, oblivious.

"…16, 23…"

As if it had been some strange countdown to the event Desmond walked into the wire and triggered the trap. Charlie didn't even stop to think. He jumped from the slope on which he stood and dove for Desmond, knocking him aside causing them both to roll several feet and out of the way of a cascade of falling rocks. The avalanche missed them both.

"What the hell was that?" said Desmond, crawling his way out from under Charlie.

"The same thing that did this," said a breathless Charlie, pointing to the ugly scabbed wound on his forehead. "There are traps like these all over the jungle."

At this news Desmond panicked anew.

"I've got to get out of here," he said, scrambling to his feet. "I'll never survive here -- I've spent the last three years in the station."

"Well we've lived out here for over a month and have yet to find the airport," said Charlie, brushing off his jeans. "So unless you can sprout wings…"

But Desmond wasn't listening.

"I don't belong here," he muttered and ran off.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Charlie yelled.

He turned back to Charlie one last time and said, "See you in another life, yeah?"

* * *

As soon as Jack finished stitching him up Charlie took off. He knew he couldn't survive alone on the island indefinitely but for now he didn't wish to face anyone in the camp. After his treatment at the hands of Locke the night before, they would all be convinced that Charlie had been high when he took Aaron. There would be no point in trying to explain when no one wanted to hear it – he had already been tried and sentenced in their eyes. He needed time away to let them forget and move on to more important island scandals. With enough time even Claire might forgive him, though Charlie was prepared for that to take longer.

He followed the shoreline, walking in a lazy curve, in and out with the tide, thinking only about where he would sleep that night. If he could slip in unnoticed, he wouldn't mind crashing in the hatch. He missed the record collection there, not to mention the many comforts that they had all been without for so long. Apart from having to push a button every 108 minutes, the place wasn't that bad, but there was a very good chance that Locke would be there and that ruled that possibility out completely.

He stopped to toss a few rocks and looked out onto the ocean's horizon. The rock fell, forgotten, from his hand.

There was a boat.

A sailboat was out there on the water, floating lazily as if on a pleasure cruise. Charlie called out, but knew it was much too far. He looked behind him at the deserted beach. He would have to go to it. Pulling off his shoes, Charlie ran in and started swimming. If he had stopped to consider it he might have thought better of it. He was never the best swimmer and vessels on the water were always much further than they appeared. But it was the first boat they'd seen since crashing here, and a boat meant rescue.

Halfway there it was as if the boat was playing a game of cat and mouse with him. It would seem closer and then suddenly far away. Charlie kept swimming but his strokes slowed and his legs began to feel heavy. He looked all over for a sign of life on the deck but there was no one who might hear him and help close the distance. He stopped and paddled for a moment and then started again when he felt the current push him even further away, adding to his burden. The waves were rougher out here and every rise went over his head. Charlie had to fight to stay above water and not lose sight of the boat completely.

Finally he was almost within reach. He opened his mouth to call out for help and ended up with a mouthful of briny seawater. Trying again he almost choked on it. He reaching out to grab the side of the hull but it was heavily varnished and his fingers slipped right down. There was nothing within reach that he could grab onto and the current was dunking him again, pulling him under the boat. Charlie knew if that happened he'd never find his way to the surface so despite the trouncing he was taking he shouted out for aid, and smacked the side of the boat with his open hand.

He slipped under again and reached out with his arm above the surface but just before he did he spotted something lean out over the deck railing, but it wasn't a hand or a life preserver.

It was the barrel of a shotgun.

There was nowhere for him to go and he felt exhausted. Suddenly a long sleep sounded wonderful. He relaxed and closed his eyes…

…and he felt himself being hauled upwards and pulled over the railing. Charlie dropped face down on the deck, coughing and spewing out water, looking like a drowned rat.

He was still recovering his senses when he heard a voice from behind him. Charlie assumed it was the lunatic with the gun.

"You?" the voice said.

"Me _what_?" asked Charlie, pushing himself up on all fours.

"You were in the Swan station."

At this Charlie looked over his shoulder at his rescuer. He almost didn't recognize him. The crazy Scot had a beard and his hair was longer.

"Desmond?"

Then Charlie looked at the rifle at the man's side and his eyes opened wide in disbelief.

"You were going to shoot a drowning man?"

Desmond followed Charlie's gaze to the rifle, smiled and said sheepishly, "Well, you can't be too careful."

Charlie looked around the deck of the luxury vessel, feeling his anger rise, "So is caution the reason you kept your _boat_ a secret as well?"

"Something like that," he explained as he lay the gun down, sounding considerably calmer than he had the last time Charlie had seen him. "I was already fooled into losing it once."

Charlie sat shivering in his wet clothes. Desmond must have taken pity on him because after a moment he disappeared into the cabin and returned with a large blanket. He handed it to Charlie and then sat alongside him. Charlie opened the blanket up and threw it on.

"Well it would appear fate has brought us together again," said Charlie.

"Aye," agreed Desmond. "Now what did you say your name was?"

"Charlie."

"Fancy a drink Charlie?" he asked, pulling out a wine bottle from an apparent nowhere.

"I suppose I'd better," said Charlie, "maybe if I do this will all start to make sense."

Desmond laughed and handed him the bottle. Charlie took a good swig and felt warmer.

"So why aren't you halfway to Australia by now?" he asked, handing the bottle back.

Desmond shook his head. "I don't bloody know. I was bound for Fiji but for some reason I couldn't get there. I just kept circling until I ended up back here again. No matter what I do I can't escape this place."

Charlie listened, wishing he could offer him some comfort but he was just as stuck as Desmond was. He remembered telling Claire their first night here that rescue would come but hardly anyone believed that anymore. He recalled Desmond saying he had been on the island for three years. He would be astonished if the poor bugger had any hope left.

"So I guess that means you've not come to rescue us," said Charlie.

Desmond smiled, "As you can see I can't even rescue myself."

They were two helpless strangers, adrift, exiled from their former societies like lepers. Charlie noticed Desmond staring at his cheek and Locke's handiwork until he finally asked about it.

"What happened to you?" he asked, pointing to the stitches there. "Another rock trap?"

"No, it's…" Charlie began, but he didn't even know how to begin to explain. "I did something pretty stupid."

"Why was it stupid?" he asked.

"I thought I was being brave," he explained, "but it was really cowardly. Do you know the feeling?"

"Aye," he said. "I do. I ran off and left you to deal with the button. I'm sorry."

"That wasn't cowardice," said Charlie. "That was brains."

"I'm not sure the rest of your campmates would agree with you there," said Desmond.

Charlie reached up and touched his cheek, "No, the way they dispense justice, probably not."

"So I suppose that would make us a couple of fugitives. What do we do now?" Desmond asked him.

What choice did they have really? If Desmond was right sailing would get them nowhere, and Charlie didn't fancy himself becoming a lone survivalist like Rousseau. Whatever wrongs they had done, the others would get over it eventually and things would return to normal. The only trick was learning to live with yourself.

"I guess we go back," Charlie sighed, "and let fate give us a chance to redeem ourselves."

"But we make our own choices, don't we?" Desmond asked, tipping back the bottle and draining it. "I'm not so sure I believe in fate."

"No," said Charlie, thinking of the many decisions he had made, both good and bad, that had led him here, "neither do I."

* * *

Now that Eko was gone, Desmond sat with Locke as they watched the timer count down. He never thought he would be back here -- history repeating itself -- only this time Locke had convinced him to do things differently, to control his fate and cause a different outcome. They were going to let the timer go.

They were not going to push the button.

When Jack had first suggested that Desmond was the subject of an experiment he had scoffed, but Locke had shown him proof – a tape from another station called the Pearl in which everything they had done in the Swan station had been observed and recorded. Desmond felt manipulated, used by Kelvin and the people he worked for, while Kelvin secretly repaired Desmond's boat for his own getaway. He was so bitter about it he was now ready to test Locke's hypothesis and let the chips fall.

Desmond had rigged the blast doors to come down, sealing them off. They sat together talking until Desmond heard banging on the other side of the iron curtain and a familiar voice.

"Des, it's Charlie," the voice called. "Locke's messing with your head. Don't listen. Just open this door and we can talk about it."

"No, Charlie," Desmond answered. "It's not real and we're going to prove it."

"I don't know who's more insane, Locke or Eko but you should know Eko is going to blow open the blast door with dynamite," Charlie told him. "Is that what you want?"

He hadn't intended for anyone to be hurt because of him, and he suddenly didn't want Charlie anywhere near the hatch, just in case. Desmond didn't know what if anything would come of letting the timer run out but he knew what a charge of dynamite would do in an enclosed steel and concrete corridor.

"Charlie, get the bloody hell away from here," he shouted.

"Not until you come out!" he responded. "Des! Seriously, you're about to be detonated. Is this your idea of bravery -- and what if you're wrong?"

Desmond looked to Locke but the man was unfazed, disturbingly calm. Charlie was right; all at once Desmond felt like a coward again for sitting there comfortably, risking everyone's lives as his friend put himself in danger to rescue him. Before he could respond however there was a large explosion from outside and Desmond gasped. The room shook, but the door held fast. _Charlie_, Desmond thought. He leapt up and put his ear to the door.

"I think they just blew themselves up, brother," he told Locke. "I can't hear anything. Maybe we should open it."

"No, no, it's a trick," said Locke.

"A _trick_?" said Desmond. "They could be hurt! Is your doctor around?"

"Our doctor is God knows where. And he sure as hell doesn't care about anything happening down here."

Desmond paused, thinking of Charlie and the time his friend had saved him from the rock trap. Charlie could be lying out there right now, needing him.

"Well I don't bloody care, I'm not going to be held responsible for their deaths," Desmond decided and he crossed the wires and opened the door.

He was hit in the face by a blast of black acrid smoke. When he passed through the cloud he saw Eko on the floor, surrounded by debris. To his relief, Locke was right behind him and went to Eko's aid. Desmond searched the corridor.

"Charlie!" he called as he walked the length of the hallway.

There he was at the far end, huddled in a corner in the hatch shaft, no doubt having run as far as he could get from the blast. His arms and face were covered in blood and ash. Desmond's breath caught in his throat as he felt for a pulse, only allowing himself to exhale when he found it, strong and steady.

Placing a hand behind Charlie's neck for support he shook him gently. "Charlie, wake up."

His lids drowsily lifted halfway.

"C'mon, get up," Desmond said, not knowing how much time he had but aware that it wasn't long. "We've got to get you out of here, brother."

Charlie woke more fully and stared at his friend, unfocused. One pupil was dilated and his head lolled a bit.

"Charlie?" Desmond said, trying to rouse his attention, "Did you hear me?"

He wasn't responding at all, and indeed was looking rather confused, grabbing at his head. Desmond wondered whether it was the result of the concussion or if his hearing had been damaged, or both. Without waiting for more of a recovery, Desmond took Charlie's arm and lifted him up. Obediently, Charlie walked with Desmond's support, and after a few steps he grabbed at Desmond's shirt and spoke.

"Eko?" he asked.

"Locke's with him," Desmond answered.

He wanted to tell Charlie the priest would be all right, but he honestly didn't know. Charlie was his only concern at the moment and that timer was about to wind down. Desmond glanced at it as they passed through the computer room. Ten minutes left. They exited out into the jungle and headed in the direction of the beach.

Desmond knew he didn't have time to get Charlie all the way back; when that timer ran out the failsafe key would be the only thing to stop it in case it turned out to be a mistake. He had to be there when that happened.

In his friend's state Desmond didn't think Charlie would find the beach on his own unless it were a straight shot so they walked until the beach lay just a few hundred yards dead ahead.

"Just keep walking that way brother and you'll reach the camp," Desmond told him, releasing him slowly to be certain Charlie was steady on his own feet. "I've got to get back to the station."

"What?" said Charlie, loudly. "Wait, why?"

"There's something I have to do," he said.

"But you're out, let's just run for it," Charlie suggested.

Desmond shook his head. "No Charlie. Not this time. I can help. I have to go back."

He turned to go but was stopped one last time at the sound of Charlie calling for him.

"What is it?" Desmond asked.

With a grin, Charlie said, "You're not a coward, are you Desmond?"

Desmond smiled back and said, "Get back to the beach Charlie."

"Des," he said.

"Yeah, pal?"

"I'll see you in another life," said Charlie.

* * *

"See you in another life…"

Another life…

Another life…

Another…

London street.

Widmore Industries. _I've been here before._

Music. A small crowd on the pavement.

Someone singing.

_And maybeeee,_

_You're gonna be the one that saves me,_

_And after all,_

_You're my Wonderwall…_

"Charlie?"


End file.
